The Hunt of the Dragon: Book 1 of Dragon's Legacy
by DrBlowhole1
Summary: Scorchtail had read about an evil, dragon-cannibal named Blackfang who may not even exist. After a murder occurs, he is forced to go look for a new home called the Realm of Forever. Will he prevail? Or will the mysterious Blackfang thwart his plan?
1. Prologue: The Evil One

**Prologue: The Evil One**

All was peaceful in the world of dragons. Different dragons were doing different things. Some were sleeping quietly and some loudly. Some of the more playful dragons - mostly hatchlings - were playing enjoyable games. Some of the more daring types of dragons were soaring through the sky. Many of the adults were chatting with each other about their days, their children, and environmental problems while the ancients were busy thinking about historical moments and thinking up wise, scientific questions about the planet to think about.

The dragons had lived in harmony for many millenniums despite problems from enemies and the growth of the human population. Many kingdoms of different animals had already signed peace treaties with the dragons. Everything seemed right. All that would soon change as a legendary foe began to rise again after many centuries of being trapped in the Valley of No Return.

Deep within the Valley of No Return, a valley located somewhere in eastern Europe, inside an ancient castle, the walls were molded. The roof was broken open, sun shining into the dark fortress. The castle no longer looked as bright and shiny as it was in the good, old days. The castle had once been beautiful, and that was how its owner had liked it.

And that owner's name was Blackfang, The Evil One.

Blackfang, The Evil One snorted, turned around, and looked at his reflection in a large mirror behind him. The mirror was exactly the size of him - a large warship. Blackfang, being evil, had always admired his own reflection, and he made sure that he was good looking even though no one would want to love him. To do this, he had ordered his slaves - servants, he called them - to clean him from head to tail until he felt beautiful.

Blackfang grinned, his dark purple tongue flicking back and forth between his teeth. "Hey there, fine dragon," he smirked at the mirror. His grin soaked into his eyes as he examined himself. His teeth were as sharp as swords, his scales as red as blood, his eyes as dark as night. He was brilliant, marvelous, absolutely fantastic - well, at least that's what he thought. He had impressive ears next to his cheek bone that could hear even the slightest of whispers despite having tons of earwax. Because his eyes were so keen, he could see a rock from miles away. Blackfang's own spikes and horns shown like gold, even the spike sticking out of his snout.

Blackfang eventually turned away from the mirror to go back to what he was so angry about moments ago. He only had one favorite food: other dragons. Even though he _was_ a dragon, Blackfang loved the horror that dragons showed to him just before he killed them, scattering around like frightened ants. But he also killed dragons because of a secret vengeance he had on them, though no one knew why. Blackfang was so angry when he was trapped in the Valley of No Return. His high-temper had caused him to kill more than half of his servants out of rage, and he lusted for dragon blood ever since.

No one really knew why he was so angry all the time; from stress, perhaps? Or maybe he didn't like dragons in general? Only Blackfang himself knew the answer, and he kept it a secret. Whenever one of his many elf servants would be foolish enough to ask him why, he would devour them with outstretched jaws.

Blackfang was in his worst mood when Winley, his elf advisor, was running late. He had ordered the elf to fetch him his dinner almost an hour ago. He grunted angrily, the dragon was becoming very impatient, and that wasn't a good thing.

"Grahh!" growled Blackfang as he stomped his paw angrily. Five seconds went by and still no response from his advisor. Out of pure impatience, he bellowed, "Winley, where is my cow?"

To his relief, a small elf with spiky, silver hair rushed into the great throne room carrying a big, silver platter. In he rushed, practically tripping over a woven rug. With a loud yelp, he toppled to the ground, sending the dish flying. Luckily for him that he had caught it just in time.

Blackfang huffed angrily and puffed a fog of icy, cold air at the small dwarf in impatience. "Where the devil (in this case, Blackfang) have you been all of this time? I almost shed my scales out of pure frustration! Huh!" Grunted Blackfang, snapping an annoying fly in two with his paw after it foolishly landed on the ground in front of him. "Get off your lazy bum and come over here!"

Winley almost cracked up laughing at his master; luckily, he was able to stop himself. _Oh, I'm the lazy one? _When his master gave a deep, menacing growl, he snapped out of it and picked himself up off the ground. Winley dusted himself off, and he pulled Blackfang's dish up. He approached Blackfang at a steady pace just in case his master decided to strike at him. "Yes, master. Sorry, master. I won't do it again, master. I'm foolish, master, very foolish. I-"

"Oh, shut up, you useless wine-bottle! For your sake, you better hope I'm satisfied." The elf sat the platter down and opened it to reveal a cow. Blackfang tipped his snout down and sniffed the food. His eyes scanned the meat from head to hoof as he began to inspect it to see if it met his requirements of a good meal: It had to be fat, roasted, and edible. The roasted and edible part was fine, but what about fat?

"You know that's not my name, master. It's _Win-lee_," muttered Winley nervously, but his master ignored that remark. Winley watched his master nervously. If his master wanted to, he could eat him right there and then. He tapped his shoe nervously and watched Blackfang, frightened of what might happen.

After a while of looking at the cow, Blackfang turned his stunning, blood, red eyes to Winley. "Is that it?"He growled angrily.

"Yes, o' evil one," shivered Winley who thought about Blackfang's growing appetite. What if he decided to eat him instead like he did to most of his other servants?

"This is pathetic! Is this supposed to be the main course? This is a runt!"

Winley shivered and backed away, only for Blackfang to edge closer and tap his claw on the ground in annoyance. "Well, master, i-it's been a slow week. There hasn't been many cows born-"

"Those stupid cows are not the reason! You just aren't breeding them enough! Why can't you just cook something good for a change... like a dragon?" asked Blackfang.

"I'm afraid I can't, master! There aren't any dragons h-" Winley shuddered. He could feel his master's icy breath chilling down his neck.

"'I'm afraid I can't, master! There aren't any dragons!'" Growled Blackfang angrily, giving his best impression of his advisor's squeaky voice. "I want a dragon! Now get me one, or I'll be having you instead," threatened Blackfang as he showed his massive black fangs; he wasn't called Blackfang for nothing. "And don't try to make a fake dragon and stuff it with cow meat!"

Winley stared at Blackfang's massive jaws and shuddered. The memories of all of those who had been gored to death by those mighty jaws was so frightening, he could remember exactly how many elves had lost their lives to their master.

Winley shivered in anger, remembering two very important elves that had been crushed by Blackfang's jaws: his parents. Angry, but careful not to show it, Winley bravely said to his master, "But Blackfang, we're stuck here, remember! The dragon elders trapped us here! How can I-"

"Nonsense! _I'm_ stuck, not you. Don't remind me of those annoying, old, foolish, geezers again, wine-bottle, or you'll be seeing your family soon," growled Blackfang, his eyes flickering down toward his stomach. "Now, if you would let me explain to that nut-sized brain of yours, I have been practicing spells of which you would never guess since the day I was trapped in this prison of forestry. After centuries of being stuck down here, I've grown stronger. Strong enough to never be touched by the likes of those fools again. One of my spells allows me to transport people and objects to places through memories of that specific place."

Winley looked at the Evil One uncertain on what his master was going to say. Whatever it was, he didn't like it.

Then Blackfang lowered his ear down to the small dwarf. "Climb in." He growled to his 'wine bottle.'

"Wait, what? Why?" asked Winley a bit confused. He looked at the mucky goo sliding around deep within Blackfang's ear.

"Listen, you twit! Don't you have any sense in that little brain of yours?" snapped Blackfang. Sensing his servant's fear, he lowered his tone and continued in a deep, menacing tone. "I've been to the Dragon Kingdom several times in the past and have a good memory of what it looks like. I will be transporting you to a meadow in the central valley where then you will go and bring me back a dragon. I don't care how you do it, just bring it here. If I were to get one myself, those pests would rise up and start pestering me until I drop dead."

"But Blackfang, your earwax is absolutely repulsive!" cried Winley in protest. He had seen how bad his master's ears could get every day during his master's daily 'spa', and today they were at their worst.

"I don't care if it's raining rats and hogs! Now shut up and climb in here, or you'll be going into my stomach instead!" growled Blackfang, "I still don't have anything to eat, and an elf is just what my stomach wants right about now." Blackfang's stomach growled loudly as if to agree with its owner. "And you know how my stomach always gets what it wants."

"I don't want to meet it," muttered Winley. The elf gulped and reluctantly climbed up his master's cheek scale by scale. He couldn't help but look down Blackfang's cheek to his muzzle where several sharp, purely white teeth curved in a grimacing smile.

Winley climbed up into his master's slimy ear and plugged his nose as he walked through it, step by step. His shoes stuck to the earwax at first, but he kept on walking until he reached his master's brain.

"Are you at my brain yet?" thundered Blackfang's voice to his puny servant. He didn't want his servant pulling any tricks on him. Luckily he had made sure the elf didn't have any weapons that might be able to kill him from the inside. If his advisor was to try that, he could just use a spell that would allow his brain to form a hole leading to his throat. Then he could just shake his head and cause his servant to fall down his throat and into his stomach acid. Then he would be safe from harm's way and his stomach would be satisfied.

"Yes, master," replied Winley careful not to be too loud in case he gave his master a headache. Then he would be in trouble.

The Evil One's brain was big, strong, and full of mighty tissue. Blackfang wasn't exactly a dumb dragon; he was actually very intelligent with a high IQ. A lot of memories were inside that brain. Winley wished he could somehow see what had happened to Blackfang in his childhood. Why was he such a ruthless dragon-cannibal? What did the dragons ever do to him?

"Good, now go into my brain cloud," ordered Blackfang. He could feel his servant walking on his brain and shuttered painfully. He focused his thoughts to Winley and created a gaseous cloud in his head.

Winley watched as a large, green cloud of gas appeared in front of him. Oh, how the elf knew he would regret this, but he plugged his nose and walked into the cloud anyway. A dark, murky substance engulfed the elf as he appeared in a strange maelstrom of Blackfang's thoughts.

Blackfang was thinking of many things while Winley was teleporting. He was thinking about dragons and all of the ones he had killed. However, he made haste to erase his mind of all memory of his mysterious past so that his servant wouldn't know his history. One particular thought caught Winley's ears.

_That fool better find me a dragon, or I'll soon make a meal out of him!_

The words echoed throughout the maelstrom and into Winley's ears. Those words stunned him; however, those words weren't the only things that stunned him. A forest was slowly beginning to form in front of him. And within that forest stood the mightiest beasts known to man.

Winley tensed his eyes at the magnificent beasts before him. He hadn't seen a normal one of those in centuries. He was used to seeing Blackfang's ugly muzzle all of the time. But most importantly, he was free of his master's torment. He was as free as a bird, allowed to do whatever he wanted, and his master couldn't do anything about it either! But for some reason, he still felt his master could still come after him, despite being trapped. After all, his master had told him he had powers of which he could never guess.

Maybe Winley should keep to his promise to Blackfang even though he shouldn't be following his master's orders. But he needed to show integrity. He needed to lure these beasts in front of him. He needed to lure dragons.


	2. Chapter 1: An Unpleasant Tale

**Chapter 1: An Unpleasant Tale**

The valley of the dragons was in peace that day. The sun was shining brightly, a cool, gentle breeze was blowing across the horizon, and the local forecast was supposed to be sunny all week long. It was in the middle of the most beautiful season of them all: spring. Gorgeous tulips were blooming and the waters were becoming perfect. Migrated birds were returning home, and bears were coming out of their dens after a long, winter slumber. Dragons of all ages were excited for the New Year, but one wasn't so happy.

A tall, blue dragon had read a certain dragon tale the night before that didn't fascinate him at all. It worried him. The tale told of an ancient dragon-cannibal called Blackfang the Evil One who slaughtered the young and killed the innocents. Many dragons had said that this was just an urban legend that wasn't even true, but, deep in his heart, he knew that this story had to have been true.

That dragon's name was Scorchtail. He was on the edge of becoming an adult dragon, and others told him he was a very mature and thoughtful dragon. 'You would make a great father' they had said. Scorchtail was nervous. Despite being polite to others, he had a few bugs about himself that he wasn't proud of. One of them had to do with being blue when his fire name was supposed to be for a red dragon. His colleagues had teased him about that for eternity, and he didn't like it one bit. Every night he would wish to be a red dragon, but he never became one. People had told him that red dragons were the fiercest and meanest dragons of all and that it was bad of you were a red dragon. This cheered Scorchtail up a little bit. After all, Blackfang was red and evil.

However, that problem wasn't the worst of his troubles. The worst problem of them all was just pathetic: He couldn't breathe fire. 'What kind of dragon can't breathe fire?' he had asked himself a million times. He assumed all dragons breathed fire because all of his friends did. This wasn't good for a dragon who hoped to become a father one day. If he failed to learn how to breathe fire, then his children would be ashamed of him and he knew it. Scorchtail had tried countless times to try to breathe fire. He took lessons, he ate special foods, he read books, but nothing seemed to work. He was beginning to think he would never learn to breathe fire. Thank goodness he could fly!

Scorchtail sighed and put away all of those thoughts and focused on why he was going to the dragons' leader Greyclaw. He wished to speak to the old dragon about finding a better, safer environment in case Blackfang ever did return. He trekked up the steep, grassy path to Greyclaw's cavern. He walked up to its wide entrance.

"Hey, Greyclaw! Are you in there?" asked Scorchtail. He hoped he was. The dragon was old and could give way at any second.  
>Then came a crackly, ancient wheeze from deep within the cavern, "Yes, boy. Come in."<p>

Scorchtail stepped into the cavern. The cavern was lit with a mysterious glow of blue flame. He had only been in Greyclaw's home once when he was a child and his mother needed advice on magic.

The wrinkled, old dragon that barely looked like a dragon anymore was lying on a large, purple pillow talking to the wind he had always said; however, many said he was a lunatic talking to himself. His golden eyes sparkled throughout the cavern, and his wings were torn from battle scars. He had a now partly destroyed, brownish-yellow tail point.

Scorchtail couldn't stand it. To think that he would look like that when he was older? He was absolutely hideous! He couldn't take his gaze off of the dragon's brown teeth and gray fangs. Greyclaw had to have been a good fighter back in the days of the old.

"Do you feel the breeze, son?" asked Greyclaw suddenly as he tipped his snout up to the ceiling and looked around, "It's calling my name."

Scorchtail knew what this meant. Greyclaw would surely be dying soon. He hoped not today. He swallowed and finally found the courage to speak, "I've come to speak to you about us dragons' safety."

Greyclaw sighed and looked back at Scorchtail. He opened his mouth to speak, and his wrinkles nearly tore at Scorchtail's mind. "What do you have on your mind, boy?"

"Well, I read this dragon folk tale last night, but I'm not so sure if it's a tale," said Scorchtail, not sure where he was going with this, "I believe that the one called Blackfang is real and will return to destroy all of us."

Greyclaw's mysterious mood changed. His facial expression changed to a stern, angry face, "Nonsense! That's all just a bunch of hatchling m. His facial expression changed to a stern, angry face, "Nonsense! That's all just a bunch of dragon myths made to scare their young into doing what they say; a bed time story."

"I'm serious, Greyclaw. I've had dreams before about him returning and wrecking havoc!" exclaimed Scorchtail. He wasn't going to let the conversation end that easily.

"Then obviously you have been reading too late at night, boy!" snapped Greyclaw angrily, "Your parents didn't teach you that lesson?"

"My parents are dead," said Scorchtail mournfully. He hated to admit it, but others were telling him the same thing.

Greyclaw breathed awkwardly and tapped his paw on the ground. "Blackfang doesn't exist. Even if he did, he would never be able to escape the cleverly built Valley of No Return and neither would his smelly dwarves!"

"How would you know? You weren't even a toddler when the book said he was banished," said Scorchtail.

This nearly startled Greyclaw. He had a look on his face like he was about to say 'how old do you think I am?' He turned his attention to the entrance, where several dragons were waiting for a conference with him. "Touché, this conversation is over."

"But Greyclaw, he's bound to escape eventually!" exclaimed Scorchtail. He didn't want the conversation to leave.

"No buts! You're holding up the line!" snapped Greyclaw. He lifted his paw and pointed to the exit.

The dragons outside were becoming infuriated with having to wait for so long. A green one at the front of the line cried, "Get out of the way! You should only talk to Greyclaw if you have something important!"

"But it is important! I'm –" Scorchtail stopped; there was no point in arguing here, "Sorry for your wait, everyone. I'll be leaving now."

"Finally!" cried the green dragon. He walked boldly into the cavern for his meeting.

Scorchtail mumbled under his breath and walked out of Greyclaw's cave. He gazed out at the small flock of dragons in the valley below, having so much fun. The dragons were happy here, and he knew it. But they would surely be killed by Blackfang if they didn't leave sooner or later.

"He's real, I know he is," mumbled Scorchtail. He decided that he would go looking at the silver fish in the great, golden river. He flew towards the river at the eastern side of the valley and landed next to it.

Scorchtail looked deep into the river and spied a fish swimming close to the shore. He dipped his right paw into the waters and pulled the fish out of the water by its tail.

The fish flipped and flopped between his claws trying to escape to the waters. It looked up at Scorchtail.

Scorchtail looked back at it. He didn't eat meat, and this wasn't why he was grabbing the fish. He was examining it.

The fish was silver with bluish gales and blue eyes, just like him. The fish was very large and heavy and… gasping for breath!

Scorchtail quickly released the fish into the river. He didn't want to harm the fish. This fish just reminded him of his brother, Bluetongue. Where was the silver-eyed youngling anyways?

"Hey, Scorchtail," said Bluetongue who had crept up behind Scorchtail about five seconds ago. Bluetongue was Scorchtail's younger brother and was an interesting miniature of him. He was a very naïve dragon who was sometimes jealous of others, but he hadn't felt that way since three years ago when his old friend Luoc had beat him at everything. After a conflict between his guardian, Scorchtail and Luoc's father, Loahi, Luoc soon became Bluetongue's arch enemy.  
>"Oh! Hey, Bluetongue! How was this morning?" asked Scorchtail, "Did you get into any scuffles?" As his guardian and brother, it was important for him to know what his brother had been doing each day.<br>"It was fine. Where were you this morning? You weren't at home for breakfast," asked Bluetongue. He looked at his older brother with concern.  
>Scorchtail stared down at his brother, "Oh, I just had to speak to Greyclaw about a dragon tale I read about the other night."<p>

"And?" asked Bluetongue.

"Oh, it's nothing," replied Scorchtail. He didn't want his brother to find out what had really happened there.

"Right," said Bluetongue unimpressed, "Can you take me to the meadow to get some dragon scales for my collection?"  
>Scorchtail looked at his sibling for a while. He finally said, "First one to find a gold one wins!"<p>

And within that second, the two brothers raced off towards the big, grassy meadow next to the river. Little did they know that they would soon find a small dwarf would be found there. Who knew what would happen then.


	3. Chapter 2: Winley's Lie

**Chapter 2: Winley's Lie**

Scorchtail was a few yards away from Bluetongue looking for scales for a game that they called Color Hunt. Color Hunt was a fun game that Scorchtail had invented for Bluetongue to make it more fun to find scales for his collection. In Color Hunt, you would need to find scales, and you would get points for each that you find judging by its color; blue scales were worth five points, red scales were worth six, green scales were worth seven, yellow were worth eight, orange were worth nine, purple were worth ten, silver were worth eleven, and gold, the rarest scale to find, gave you and automatic win. However, if you found a black scale, you were disqualified and your opponent would win. So far, Scorchtail had sixteen points: two blue scales and one red scale, and Bluetongue had found one blue scale and one green scale, or 12 points.

Scorchtail knew where to find all of the scales that would give you a whopping score. He had once found three golden scales in one game. He approached a large, open area and grinned. Scales of different colors were all over the place and silver and purple scales were hiding under the shadows of a cliff where dying dragons would usually go to die. Scorchtail picked up two orange scales, three green scales, a red scale, and a blue scale. He approached the shadows of the cliff and gasped. Had he just found a black scale?

Scorchtail approached the cliff and looked into the shadows. No black scales. Had his eyes been playing tricks on him? He shook his head and picked up two silver scales and three purple scales. Who cares if he won? He would be giving all of the scales to Bluetongue at the end anyways.  
>Scorchtail turned around and went to go search for more scales in the clearing. If his eyes would have been keener, then he would have noticed a black-scaled tail disappear into the shadows and head towards Greyclaw's cave atop the tallest cliff in the valley.<p>

Bluetongue wasn't very good at Color Hunt and had only won two times out of the several times they had played together. He had asked his brother how he had found so many scales in one game, but Scorchtail refused. He called it his 'little secret'. Bluetongue was busy looking through the trees and bushed near the entrance of the meadow.

Winley gagged as he realized how much slime and muck from Blackfang's 'magical memory' had stained his clothes. He would need to wash it off. Where was he anyways? Was this was a meadow?

The meadow was beautiful. A rushing, golden river was running through it. Several beautiful blossoms of different colors (He liked the dark blue ones the most) were blooming. The grass was green. Winley had never seen a meadow like this before. The meadows back home had always been horrible because of Blackfang's hobby to destroy innocent trees and his destruction of all things beautiful. This meadow was very beautiful to him.

Winley approached a small stream and wiped all the muck off of his clothing and turned to leave. He tripped and landed on the ground when he saw what was ahead of him. He saw what he was supposed to be searching for. He stood up off the ground that he had landed upon and looked at the magnificent dragons far away. There were two of them, one searching for something in a clearing, and another looking in the bushes, and they were both blue. Winley quietly hissed, "Yes!" His master would most certainly be pleased with him if he brought back _two_ dragons with him.

Winley decided to go after the small one first. He had no experience with catching dragons, so he just thought it would be impossible to catch the bigger one on his first try. He crouched and snuck over to the dragon in the bushes. Foolishly, he didn't watch where he was going and snapped a twig in half.

The dragon turned his head towards him in alarm. Winley froze in terror. His cover was blown for sure. He held his breath and stared at the dragon.

"Hey!" it cried as it stood up and rushed towards him. Luckily, the larger dragon hadn't heard anything.

Winley wound around and rushed off down the path in panic. His cover _was_ blown! If he didn't bring a dragon to Blackfang like he had been specifically commanded, then his master would surely eat him on the spot. Winley felt like screaming as the dragon's paws pounded after him. He gasped when he reached a dead end at a cliff.

Winley looked up. The cliff wasn't very big. Maybe he could climb up it and escape. Just when he was about to climb up it, the dragon reached him.

"Don't be frightened! I'm only here to help," said the dragon as it cornered him, "I haven't seen your kind around here. Are you lost?"

Winley was silent. He shivered, scared out of his wits. What should he say? Perhaps he shouldn't say anything.

"Can you at least tell me your name?" asked Bluetongue, "My name is Bluetongue."

"B-Bluetongue?" asked Winley. It wouldn't harm anybody if he said his name. "My name is Winley."

"Winley, huh? Cool name. What's your last name? Mine's Firetooth," asked Bluetongue questioningly.  
>Winley thought back for a moment. Maybe his family line had had a last name long ago? For every dwarf that served the Evil One, they were required by him to not have a last name and instead be given titles or, if Blackfang really liked you, a nickname. "I don't have one," he said.<p>

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Do you have a family?" asked Bluetongue.

Winley shook his head. He had a family long ago, but Blackfang had killed them.

"Oh. Sorry for asking. Is this where you live?" asked Bluetongue, "I haven't seen any elves down here before. Dragons say that they live in deserted forests, but I don't think this meadow is deserted."

Winley panicked. What should he say? He had to say something believable but what? If he told him why he was _really_ here, then this dragon would surely turn him into the authorities and have him imprisoned or even worse. So he fibbed, "I was far from here wondering around a castle, where I had no idea where I was by the way, when a monstrous beast appeared in front of me. It nearly ate me when it decided to take me to its lair. However, it dropped me while above this meadow and left me for dead. And here I am now."  
>"Oh, that is so tragic. Did you see what the monster looked like?" asked Bluetongue, "I bet my brother Scorchtail can help. He knows a lot about mythical beasts all across the world. I bet he knows the one that attacked you."<br>"Uh…" thought Winley. He hadn't thought of that. He couldn't tell him that the beast was Blackfang. He looked down and replied, "No, it was dark out."

"Oh. Well, come with me. I'd like you to meet Scorchtail. He knows a whole lot about dwarves and where they live. Perhaps he can at least help you find where your kind lives," explained Bluetongue as he grabbed Winley's hand and walked with him.

_Does he know that the only remaining elves in the world are under the clutches of Blackfang? And that they all want to escape his ruthless wrath? _Thought Winley. He shuttered. Maybe it wasn't a very good idea to see this other dragon. Number one: it was big. And number two: He could get discovered and killed. He was thinking of saying something to Bluetongue, but they were already down the path towards Scorchtail.

Winley gasped at the sight of the so-called Scorchtail ahead. He backed away, "Oh my, Ragnar, he's big!"

"Oh, don't be afraid!" exclaimed Bluetongue sensing Winley's thoughts, "He only eats plants like me. So you know who Ragnar is?"

"Yes," Winley said, "The First Dragon, the Ruler of the Earth, the Seeker of Light, and the King of Dragons. I know all of his millions of titles, but I prefer to call him just plain Ragnar."  
>Bluetongue nodded, "Scorchtail tells me that it isn't very polite to use Ragnar's name in vain. He's strict whenever I say it. He makes me put mud in my mouth."<p>

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry for saying that. That wasn't very polite to swear like that," said Winley ashamed. He looked over to Scorchtail to see if he was watching him. He wasn't.

"Oh, it's okay. I'm sure you didn't mean to say that," said Bluetongue, "Well, come on. Let's go see Scorchtail."

Winley nodded and walked off towards the large dragon ahead. As he began to get closer he said, "I don't know about this, Bluetongue."

"Oh, it's okay. He'll like you, I can tell," said Bluetongue as he nudged Winley on the shoulder.

Winley shook his head. He didn't believe that was the case. When they reached Scorchtail, he edged into a bush and hid.  
>"Hey, Scorchtail, look who I found," said Bluetongue, "It's someone you might like to meet."<p>

Scorchtail looked around the place. He raised one eye, "Where is this person?"

Bluetongue, noticing that Winley wasn't aside him anymore, looked around. "Winley, come out, please!" he ordered.

Winley shook his head. Maybe he should go see this dragon, but maybe he shouldn't.

"Don't be afraid. It's just my brother," said Bluetongue.

"Yeah, I won't hurt you," said Scorchtail.

Winley sighed and decided that he should go out there. He slowly walked into the open in front of Scorchtail. He waved slightly.

"Winley, this is Scorchtail. Scorchtail, this is Winley," said Bluetongue.

Scorchtail glanced down at the puny Winley. His eyes widened in shock. He immediately pushed Bluetongue aside and put his paw in front of the frightened Winley in a defensive stance. "Stand back, Bluetongue! This is an elf!" ordered Scorchtail.

"Scorchtail, this is Winley!" cried Bluetongue.

"But he's is an elf!" growled Scorchtail angrily.

"What's wrong with that?" asked Bluetongue questioningly.

Winley gasped and began to pick himself up off the ground that he had fallen upon. He waited for Scorchtail to turn his eyes to Bluetongue. He slowly backed away. He looked for a place to hide and saw it. A large wood was nearby over the cliffs. Maybe he could make it there?  
>Scorchtail muted his voice. He didn't want to tell his brother the truth, so he instead said, "He can't be trusted!"<br>"And why not?" asked Bluetongue.  
>"Because… oh never mind that. You wouldn't understand even if I told you," replied Scorchtail. "Get away, dwarf."<br>Silence, not a sound was heard. "Elf, I'm telling you: Get away or else!" ordered Scorchtail. Still, nothing happened. "Elf!" he growled as he turned his head to look at the dwarf in front of him, but he gasped. Winley wasn't there; he had already made off for the woods...


End file.
